A Christmas Miracle
for the Frosty


Thornmire Manor, surrounded by large oak trees and meticulously manicured gardens, was even more vibrant and alive than ever in the years following Julian’s marriage to Clara. Birds sang the sweetest tunes, and roses bloomed with more splendor and beauty than ever before, mirroring the joy that resonated within its walls. The loudest testament was the playful laughter of two-year-old Henry, and the soft coos of newborn baby Eleanor, the most recent addition to their family.

Julian stood by the window, gazing down at the courtyard where his son played with a wooden horse, guarded closely by his nursemaid, Diana. But it was the tiny bundle in his arms that captured his full attention right then. Little Eleanor’s tiny fingers wrapped around one of his, her dark blue eyes blinking slowly up at him. For a moment, Julian’s world stood still. In her cherubic face, he saw traces of his very own mother. She looked almost identical to Elizabeth, who was now a perfect copy of the late duchess of Thornmire. A wave of memories flooded Julian’s mind. He thought about the warm lullabies his mother used to sing, her gentle touch as she comforted him through bad dreams and soothed bruises and scrapes, and the wisdom she had always been happy to impart upon him. Julian had always believed that part of his world would never be fully healed after his mother’s death. Until little Eleanor was born, that was.

“She looks so much like her,” Julian said softly, tracing Eleanor’s cheek with his thumb.

Clara, looking radiant as ever even after a tiresome childbirth, smiled, coming to stand beside him.

“Eleanor is a gift, Julian,” she said. “She is a piece of the past melding with our present, ensuring that love continues through multiple generations.”

Tears formed in Julian’s eyes.

“I never thought I could feel so whole again,” he said. “Thank you, Clara, for giving her my mother’s name.”

Clara tilted her head, pressing a gentle kiss to Eleanor’s forehead.

“It felt right,” she said. “Your mother’s legacy will carry on through our sweet daughter.”

Julian looked from his infant daughter to his wife, kissing her on the nose before stroking the baby’s head gently.

“It certainly will,” he said.

Their days passed in blissful harmony. While the demands of the estate required Julian’s attention, Clara was the epitome of compassion. Her work with the orphanage was nothing short of inspirational. Children who once felt forgotten now thrived under her attention and care. Julian marveled at her ceaseless energy and love for those less fortunate. It was, indeed, the same energy that his mother once had. And with each year they were married, Clara seemed to become more devoted to her charitable causes.

One sunny afternoon, Julian accompanied Clara and Eleanor to the orphanage. The sight of his wife, teaching a room full of eager-eyed children, with baby Eleanor nestled in a cradle beside her, made Julian’s chest swell with pride.

Little Rosie, one of Clara’s favorite children, approached Eleanor, her fingers gently touching the baby’s soft cheek.

“She’s like a princess,” she said in awe.

Clara giggled.

“She is, isn’t she?” she asked, gazing fondly at the tiny infant. “And one day, she’ll grow big and strong, just like you.”

Rosie blushed, reaching out and softly touching Eleanor’s head.

“Can I play with her when she gets bigger?” she asked.

Clara stroked the little girl’s head, smiling sweetly down at her.

“You sure can, sweetheart,” she said.

Julian watched the interaction, his heart full. Drawing Clara into a gentle embrace, he put his lips to her ear.

“Every day, my love for you grows,” he said. “I am so incredibly proud of the woman you are and the difference you make. Eleanor and Henry are blessed to have you as their mother, as am I to have you as my wife.”

Clara’s eyes glistened with tears as she looked up at him.

“We are a team, darling,” she said. “And together, we’re creating a legacy of love and compassion.”

As if in agreement with her mother, little Eleanor cooed, smiling up at her father. Julian beamed at his daughter, kissing her softly on the forehead. In the presence of his family, surrounded by the children that Clara took such joy in helping, Julian felt a happiness he hadn’t known was possible. A legacy of love, indeed, he thought. And there was no greater love in the world than that which Julian had for his family.


The grand drawing room of the manor was filled to the brim with laughter, clinking glasses, and the golden light of the fireplace illuminating the room with a warmth that matched the joy in the air. This was the fourth Christmas Julian and Clara celebrated as man and wife, and each year, the gathering seemed larger and filled with more love.

Amidst the laughter and chatter, Julian caught sight of Clara’s friend, Mary. She was gently bouncing a giggling baby boy in her arms, her face radiant with the unmistakable glow of motherhood. Beside her stood Thomas, looking at his wife and young son with a tenderness that was in stark contrast to the mischievous man he had once been.

Julian approached his cousin, a sly glint in his eyes.

“Thomas,” he said, taking a sip of his brandy, “I remember a time when you swore off marriage and children. And yet, here you are, a doting husband and father. How the tables have turned.”

Thomas chuckled, giving Julian a light nudge with his elbow.

“Oh, please,” he said with a wink. “This coming from the man who once had walls higher than this manor around his heart, and now looks at his wife and children as if they hang the moon and stars.”

Both men shared a hearty laugh, their teasing underpinned by a genuine camaraderie and love. Julian glanced over at Clara, who was balancing Eleanor on her hip while Henry tugged at her skirt.

“I believe that our families do hang the moon and stars,” he said. “At least in our worlds, they do.”

Thomas nodded, his impish gaze turning doting and affection as he looked at his son once more.

“I have to agree, Cousin,” he said softly.

From across the room, Stephen raised his glass in a toast.

“To Julian, who has proven that even the most guarded of hearts can find their way to love,” he said with a broad grin.

Julian responded with a wry smile, lifting his glass to his brother-in-law in return.

“And to Stephen, who never lets me forget it,” he said.

Behind them, Elizabeth giggled loudly. She stood with Clara, sharing tales of their recent travels, while Sarah and Edward played a duet on the piano, their fingers dancing gracefully over the keys. The room was filled with harmony, both in the literal and metaphorical sense.

“Oh, Clara, I do hope that you and Julian can take a trip to the Far East someday,” she said. “I have never seen rugs the likes of those that we saw there. I am having some shipped from there as we speak. I can hardly wait to show you how beautiful they are.”

Clara smiled at her sister-in-law, rocking little Eleanor back and forth as she began to fuss.

“I cannot wait to see them,” she said. “Perhaps, Julian and I can arrange a trip there next summer.”

Julian grinned at his wife, blowing her a kiss.

“That can certainly be arranged, my darling, if that is your wish,” he said.

At the head of the room, overseeing the merry chaos, stood Albert. The years and the joy of having grandchildren had softened the once stern duke. He watched Sarah, Edward, and Henry play with an affectionate twinkle in his eye, occasionally reaching out to pat a head or ruffle some hair. Julian smiled softly, meeting his father’s gaze when the duke raised his eyes to his son.

“Merry Christmas, Father,” he said.

The duke gave Julian a warm, fatherly smile.

“Merry Christmas to you, my son,” he said.

As the evening wore on, Julian felt a familiar hand slide into his. Turning, he found Clara smiling up at him.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” she asked. “Our families are here, all together, bound by love and joy.”

Julian nodded, pulling her close.

“Indeed, it is,” darling,” he said. “I never imagined such happiness could exist. But with you by my side and this family around us, every day feels like a blessing.”

They both looked around the room, taking in the happiness and love that surrounded them. It was a moment of pure contentment, a reminder of the strength and beauty of familial bonds. And in the heart of winter, inside the manor, it felt as if Christmas had truly come alive. More than that, for the first time in years, it felt as though Julian’s mother was celebrating the holiday with them once again.

The manor’s halls were echoing with joy, laughter, and the melodies of Christmastide carols, let by Elizabeth and Sarah when the distant rumble of carriage wheels drew Julian’s attention. Looking out the window, he saw the familiar crest of Clara’s family on the carriage door. As it came to a stop, the carriage door burst open, releasing a flurry of activity as stacks upon stacks of festively wrapped parcels made their way out. Two footmen and the driver dashed back and forth, fetching the parcels as the earl and countess disembarked from the coach. Clara clapped softly, causing Henry to turn toward the window, beaming as he saw his other grandparents approaching the door.

Clara’s family always knows how to make an entrance, Julian thought bemusedly to himself, smiling as he made his way to the entrance to greet them.

The door opened to reveal Clara’s parents, Lord and Lady Berrington, who looked every bit the doting grandparents. Their eyes sparkled with mischief as they gestured to the enormous mountain of gifts.

“Gan-mother,” Henry said, racing over to throw his arms around the countess’s legs. “Missed you.”

The countess bent to pick up the toddler, lifting him nimbly to her face and planting kisses all over his cheeks.

“Hello, Henry, darling,” she said. “I missed you, too.”

Henry turned to face Clara’s father, waving his tiny hand at the earl.

“Gan-father,” he said, sticking his finger in his mouth. “Ello.”

The earl grinned, beaming proudly at his youngest grandson.

“Hello there, my boy,” he said. “Are you ready for more presents?”

Henry nodded, smiling brightly.

“Pesents,” he said, clapping his hands.

Following the earl and countess was Amelia, looking absolutely radiant. The glow of an engaged woman adorned her, the promise of her impending nuptials to a wealthy nobleman evident in every graceful step she took.

“Amelia,” Clara said excitedly, rushing forward to embrace her sister. “Where’s your viscount? I expected to see him by your side.”

Amelia laughed melodiously.

“Gregory’s been detained in London on pressing business,” she said. “But he’ll be back a week before our wedding, ready to make me the happiest bride in all of England.”

At that, Julian couldn’t help but chime in.

“Just make sure he knows that he’s not the only one who can sweep a lady off her feet,” he said, lifting Clara into a playful embrace, making her giggle.

The room erupted into laughter, but it was soon interrupted by the entrance of William. His Eton uniform was a testament to his academic pursuits, but the boyish grin on his face made it clear that he was just as excited about the holidays as he had been when he was younger.

“William,” Julian said, patting the young man on the back. “I trust that Eton is treating you well?”

William nodded, beaming with the pride that only men of twenty-one could possess.

“Very well, thank you, Julian,” William said, looking around at the assembled family. “Although, I must admit that it’s good to be home.”

Clara hugged her brother, looking him over and smiling proudly at him.

“It is good to have you home, Brother,” he said.

A cunning grin spread over William’s face. He reached over as though to put his arm around his eldest sister. But at the last minute, he touched her head, pretending to tussle her hair.

“Is it?” he asked.

Clara laughed, pushing her brother’s hand away.

“I wanted to think so,” she said, shaking her head. “But if you’re not careful, you’ll be dining out in the snow.”

William shrugged, not seeming surprised at the mild threat.

“You mean like the year that I locked myself outside before we opened presents?” he asked.

Amelia gasped, joining her siblings, cradling little Eleanor, whom she had taken from her mother’s arms, to her bosom.

“I forgot about that,” she said. “Why did you end up outside that year?”

William grinned again.

“I was going to roll up a bunch of snowballs and have them ready for you and Clara,” he said. “After our Christmas feast, I was going to talk the two of you to going outside to play with me and then pelt you with snowballs before you could make any of your own.”

Clara laughed aloud, giving her brother an indulgent look.

“Well, then I must say that you deserved to be locked out,” she said.

William smiled again and nodded.

“I suppose that I did,” he said.

Amelia looked at Clara, making a sour face.

“Do you remember the Christmastide that I was sick?” she asked. “I never had such a nasty cold, before or since then.”

Clara gave her sister a sympathetic look and nodded.

“It was the year you turned thirteen, I believe,” she said. “I remember taking soup up to your chambers and helping you eat it.”

Amelia smiled lovingly at her sister, nodding.

“Do you remember how you told Mother to let you postpone opening your presents until I was well enough to join you?” she asked. “You insisted that William should still be able to open his, but you told her that you wouldn’t open a single one of yours until I could open mine, as well.”

Clara blushed, nodding thoughtfully.

“I do remember that, now that you mention it,” she said. “I was happy to help keep you company and take care of you. I didn’t want to open any presents when you were too ill to enjoy yours.”

Amelia embraced her sister again, smiling fondly at her.

“And I will remember your kind sacrifice for the rest of my days,” she said.

Clara shrugged shyly, putting her arm around her sister’s waist.

“Tell me,” she said. “What plans have you and Mother made for your wedding?”

The countess joined her daughters, while William separated from the group, being led by little Henry, who was tugging at his pants.

“We go for our second dress fittings next week,” she said. “I do hope you will still be able to join us for that.”

Clara smiled, nodding.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said.

Amelia squealed, grabbing onto her sister’s arm.

“I cannot wait for you to see my dress,” she said. “It is as white as the snow outside, all silk and adorned with ivory pearls.”

Clara smiled affectionately at her sister.

“I imagine it is beautiful,” she said. “I will be happy to help with decorations, or with anything else you need.”

Amelia threw her arms around her sister, smiling brightly.

“Thank you, Clara,” she said.

As the night wore on, Julian found a quiet moment with Clara beneath the mistletoe. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he whispered,

“With each Christmastide we share, my heart finds new depths of happiness,” he said. “These special moments with our families have reignited a love for this season that I thought was lost forever.”

Clara’s eyes glistened with emotion as she tilted her face up to meet his for a sweet kiss.

“And you, Julian, have brought joy and love into every corner of my life,” she said.

Julian held her close, gazing lovingly at her.

“I love you, darling,” he said, kissing her once more.

Clara smiled at him before nestling her face into his chest.

“And I love you,” she said.

The End


This is the end of my novel “A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess”. I hope that you enjoy it! Your effort to read it means a lot to me and I have to thank you for your love and support these difficult days!

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